


Whisper in the Wind

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-09-30
Updated: 1999-09-30
Packaged: 2018-11-20 11:37:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11334906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived atThe Basement, which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address onThe Basement's collection profile.





	Whisper in the Wind

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Whisper in the Wind By Tristain VanDial

22 September 1998  
NC/17, Mulder/Skinner, sexual situations   
Disclaimer: Fox Mulder, Walter Skinner, Dana Scully, and the X-Files belong to Chris Carter and 1013 Productions. No copyright infringement is intended. The story belongs to me.  
Okay to archive  
Comments to: 

* * *

Whisper in the Wind  
By T. VanDial

Fox Mulder tried to open his eyes. An act as simple as lifting first one lid and then the other became a struggle. His muscles simply wouldn't respond. Sounds came drifting in and out. Voices, if that's what they were, sounded slow and garbled. He could make no sense of anything he heard. A heavy fog shrouded his mind. No matter how hard he tried to step through it, he simply couldn't. He tried to move, but his body wouldn't respond. What's happening to me? he shouted inside the vacuum that was his body. He felt alone and cold.

Mulder felt a pressure on his eyes. Streaks of white light pierced him as his eyelids were pried open. He stared straight ahead, desperately trying to see something that would explain what was happening to him. Swirls of multi-colored light danced in front of him. In the haze that seemed to touch everything, he saw figures, or at least he thought they were figures, moving around him, looking at him.

Something moved his head from side to side. The rush of color made him dizzy. There were lights everywhere. Yet, even with all the illumination they produced, he still couldn't make anything out. Help me! Why won't someone help me! Nothing.

His mouth refused his command to open and allow him to speak. Then he cried. Fox Mulder had never felt so helpless in his entire life. It was as though his mind existed, but his body had left him. A tear welled up in one of his eyes and began to slide down the side of his face. Oh God, I feel it! The wet warmth of the tear gave him hope as it ran down his face and fell off.

"He's crying, Doctor!" yelled the nurse, as she watched the tear make its way down Mulder's face.

The doctor rushed to the side of the bed and looked. A faint smile etched its way across his face. "Finally! He's starting to come out of it. Call A.D. Skinner and tell him."

The nurse rushed out of the room.

"Agent Mulder, if you can hear me, squeeze my hand."

Fox heard sounds again, they sped up and slowed down. Comprehension eluded him however. The cold touched him again, and he shivered. I moved! For an instant, the fog lifted. A man stood over him. Mulder saw his mouth move, and then he heard words. "Squeeze my hand."

Fox willed his hands to move, and they responded.

"Good, Agent Mulder! Very good!" the doctor said, not bothering to restrain himself.

Then the fog drifted back, and Mulder was left alone. But this time, he didn't feel alone. There was a way through the haze. He had found it once, and he would find it again. Where cold had been, warmth engulfed him. A heavy curtain began to lower itself across his mind, and he slipped back into unconsciousness.

* * * * * * * * *

Assistant Director Walter Skinner sat behind his desk with his head in his hands. It had been two weeks since they had found Mulder unable to speak or move. Mulder has stepped off the plane from Colorado, where he had been on assignment, and collapsed. The doctors were at a loss to explain what had happened to him. Some suggested that Mulder had accidentally come into contact with some new bio weapon during his investigation at the army's biological weapons research lab. Walter Skinner hadn't given a damn what had caused his lover to fall into this catatonic state. All he knew was that he wanted him made well, and now!

Dana Scully had been with Mulder and had administered CPR on him. Whatever had rendered Mulder unconscious, had caused his heart to stop. Someone was intent on making sure Fox Mulder died. Why wasn't Scully infected? They both worked the same case. Yet, she hadn't come down with anything. Agent Scully had told Skinner that she believed Mulder had been deliberately infected with some kind of a virus. Why? 

For two weeks, Walter had known what it was like to live in hell. He was absolutely powerless to help the man he loved. Every spare minute of his time was spent next to the unconscious Fox Mulder. He would talk to him and touch him. At night, he would cover him and read to him. At other times, he would pray. During all those times, Fox never once opened his eyes or said a word.

The intercom buzzed on his desk, "Yes," Skinner said softly.

"A nurse from Walter Reed is on line three. She says she needs to talk to you about Agent Mulder . .."

"Skinner here."

"Mr. Skinner, this is Nurse Wiggins. Agent Mulder is beginning to respond. The doctor wanted me to tell you."

Walter said nothing. He couldn't seem to find the words he wanted to say.

"Hello? Mr. Skinner, are you still there?"

"Yes. I'll be at the hospital in about thirty minutes," Skinner said as he got up, grabbed his coat, and raced out of his office. A feeling of hope, so foreign to him these last two weeks, replaced the depression that had claimed him.

* * * * * * * * *

In the car, Skinner allowed himself to go back over the events the had brought both Fox and himself to this point. Was it only two weeks ago, that this nightmare began? It had all started with a phone call in the middle of the night . . .

"Walter! Walter! Answer the phone," Mulder said, burying his head underneath his pillow.

Walter reached over and felt for the phone. On the fourth ring he picked it up, "Hello? . . . . . Yes, this is Assistant Director Skinner. . . . . What? . . . . . Anyone hurt? . . . . . Has military intelligence been contacted? . . . . . Why not? . . . . . Prepare an incident report and have it on my desk ASAP tomorrow," he noticed the clock which read 4:33 a.m., "I mean this morning. After I read it, I'll decide if it warrants a team being sent. . . . . No, it's okay. I want you to call when you deem it necessary. . . . .Yes."

Mulder pulled his head out from under the pillow, "What was that about?"

"That was Simmons from the Bureau. It seems that someone broke into the bio-weapons research facility at Fort Carson, Colorado."

"So why does that warrant a call to you in the middle of the night?" Fox asked, his voice tinged with sleep.

"A newly developed virus strain, designed to neutralize an enemy by causing a state of complete paralysis, has been stolen."

"Sounds nasty, but that still doesn't tell me why you were called. Shouldn't this be handled by army intelligence?" Mulder continued.

"Normally yes, but it seems to have been an inside job . . ."

"I get the picture, Walter."

"Damn, Fox! What am I supposed to do if it has been stolen? How do you fight a virus that knocks everyone it touches on their proverbial ass?"

"Don't worry about it tonight. You don't know if any of the virus is missing. It could just be a false alarm," Mulder said, as he snuggled up against the older man.

"You're right, Fox. It's just that I prefer to face the worst possibilities from the onset. That way, it's never quite as bad as it seems," Walter said.

"Speaking of possibilities, what's the possibility of my getting laid by you?"

"I'd say good. In fact, excellent," Walter said, as he began to kiss the younger man.

Fox slid his hand down the firm chest of his lover and didn't stop until he held Walter's throbbing cock. Taking it in his hand, he began to slide up and down the large shaft. Seconds later, he took the older man's fully erect organ into his mouth. 

Skinner shook with pleasure at the feel of Mulder's hot, moist mouth. The feel of the younger man's tongue caressing the sensitive tip of his cock caused him to raise his hips, thrusting himself deeper into the warm orifice. "Oh yes, Fox!" he managed to whisper.

Fox took Walter's balls into his hands, gently squeezing each one. Releasing the quivering shaft that he held prisoner in his mouth, he kissed first one then the other.

"Remember, I said I wanted to get laid," Fox said as he rolled over to the night stand and got a tube. He opened it and squeezed the cold lube into his hand. Fox rubbed his hands together, and when he was sure the lube had warmed, he applied it to Walter's cock. "Now, what say you return the favor, and get me ready?"

"Did you need to ask?"

Mulder lay down on his back. Skinner squeezed some lube onto his fingertips. Sliding his hand underneath the younger man's scrotum, he quickly found his tight, waiting hole. Gently, he pressed one finger inside. Mulder groaned. Slowly, he began to insert his finger. The muscles around the opening tightened at first, but then began to relax. When Walter had managed to fully insert his finger, he slid a second into the opening.

"Good God!" Mulder said as he inhaled. Feeling Walter's fingers inside of him caused him to pull his knees towards his chest. "Your fingers are great, but I'd rather have your dick shoved up me."

Walter withdrew his fingers. He took Mulder's shaft into his mouth and sucked on it hard. He then released it as he placed the tip of his cock into the younger man's anus, grunted once and began to slide in.

The feel of being impaled by Walter, caused Mulder to raise his hips, drawing the older man deeper inside. The momentary pain of being stretched by Skinner's shaft, was quickly replaced by a feeling of euphoria. Being fucked by Walter Skinner was unlike anything he had ever experienced before.

The warmth and tightness of Mulder's ass forced any restraint that Skinner had out the door. He began to pump his hips. With each thrust into the younger man, Walter felt Mulder tightening around his shaft. Pulling almost out, Skinner would stop and then lunge forward. At each surge, Mulder was lifted into the air. The older man's hand reached between their locked bodies and found Mulder's cock. He took the throbbing penis and began to stroke it. 

Mulder's hand found the older man's ass. Quickly, he inserted a finger into him and felt for his prostate.

"You devil, you!" Walter growled, as he continued to fuck the younger man.

Walter's lunges became quicker and more urgent. He was almost at the edge. Then he felt Mulder's finger probing him, and a blinding shot of electricity raced up and down his entire body. With one last thrust, he buried himself in the younger man and emptied himself.

Mulder felt the power of Walter's last lunge. It lifted him off the bed. The older man moaned and buried himself deeper. Fox cold feel his lover's cock throbbing inside of him. He pulled his lover's face down and kissed him.

Walter Skinner pulled himself out of the younger man. He quickly took Mulder's cock into his mouth. He could feel it begin to spasm. Sucking harder, he heard Fox shout.

Lifting his hips into the air, Mulder began to cum. Hot liquid squirted out of his cock and into Walter's waiting mouth. 

The older man swallowed his lover's cum and greedily continued to suck on the shrinking cock until it was completely flaccid. Releasing it, he kissed it and made his way up Mulder's body. When he reached the younger man's mouth, Mulder parted his lips and allowed Walter's tongue to enter.

Minutes later, as they lay in the dark holding one another, Walter said, "You certainly know how to get to me. I can't remember ever enjoying sex as much as I do with you."

"You'd better say that," Mulder replied as he kissed the older man's chest.

"I mean it, Fox."

Fox raised himself and looked at the older man in the darkness. He kissed Walter on his lips and lay his head on his lover's chest. Minutes later, they were both asleep.

The blare of a car horn snapped Walter from his daydream. Why had he let Mulder talk him into sending Scully and himself to investigate the break-in? A pang of regret hit him. Skinner had felt uneasy about assigning Fox to this case. Why? Gut instinct. But the younger man was insistent, so Walter had submerged his feeling deeply inside himself. . . . .

"Ladies and gentlemen, we've got a problem," A.D. Skinner said, as he stood before the assembled group of agents in the briefing room. "Yesterday, someone managed to break into the bio weapons research lab at Fort Carson. The only thing taken was one vial containing virus 32HX. This particular virus was developed as a means to neutralize an enemy swiftly and completely. In short, once the virus has infected its host, it renders the victim thoroughly paralyzed. Testing on animals has shown the virus effective one hundred percent. Complete bodily paralysis can last for days. Mortality is probable if the effects are not reversed. To date, no testing on humans has been documented. Note, I said documented. However, researchers hypothesize that humankind would react in much the same way as the tested animals. The counter terrorist unit of army intelligence and the ATF are heading up the investigation. However, we've been asked to offer assistance. Any questions so far?"

"Any idea who's responsible?" asked an agent from the back.

A.D. Skinner walked over to a control panel and pushed a series of buttons. The lights began to dim and a screen began to drop out of the ceiling. When it was in place, a video projector clicked on. "To answer your question, the perpetrators were recorded on the lab's surveillance cameras."

A grainy, black and white video started to play. It was difficult to make out much at first, but then a figure appeared. It was dressed in coveralls. The shape turned and looked up at the camera smiling. His (at least it appeared to be a he) face was painted black. The only thing that gave the face any kind of distinguishing feature was the brightness of the eyes. The dark silhouette passed several work stations and went directly to a locked door marked DANGER! BIO-HAZARD. Taking something from a pocket that looked like a coded card, he placed it in front of the scanner. Then the figure punched in a set of numbers, and the door slid open. A couple of minutes later, the two emerged from the room, locked the door and left. The screen went blank.

"Those are the two assumed to be responsible for the thefts. As you can see, they had a security card and the current activation code. The code changes on a daily basis, with access to the codes closely restricted," Skinner added. "Apparently, not closely enough."

"Sounds like someone on the inside is involved," the voice of Mulder stated.

"It would appear so, Agent Mulder."

"I suppose army intelligence and the ATF has pursued that avenue of investigation," Mulder continued.

"I would suppose," Skinner replied.

"Then why are we being asked to get involved, sir?" Agent Scully asked.

"Both army intelligence and the ATF have lost the confidence of the members of the National Security Council. Case in point, the Oklahoma City bombing. We've been asked to offer 'support', unofficially of course." Skinner answered and continued. "I'm going to be sending a team to Fort Carson to conduct an on site investigation." Assistant Director Skinner removed his glasses, and his face took on a determined look. "The exercise of extreme caution is warranted. Remember, the effect the virus has on humans is unknown. I'll be letting you know who's been selected later in the day. Dismissed."

Walter had no more than gotten into his office when the intercom buzzed. "Yes."

"Agent Mulder here to see you, sir."

"Send him in."

Mulder strode into the office and closed the door behind him. "Scully and I want to go."

"Why?" Skinner asked.

"Scully's a doctor and knows what to look for, and I'm a damned good agent," Mulder replied.

Skinner turned on his radio. Years of working at the Bureau had made him paranoid. One never knew who was listening in on private conversations. "You'll be gone at least a week, Fox."

"I haven't been out in the field in weeks. I need this assignment. You know that Scully and I are perfect for this job."

Walter couldn't argue with the younger man. He had contemplated sending Scully and him earlier in the day. It was just that with their relationship being what it was, he worried more than usual. Walter Skinner would never let emotion cloud his decision making ability, or would he?

"Fine." Skinner replied, "but there's one condition."

"What's that?"

"I come along. Scully knows about us, so she won't be overly surprised. I have a feeling about this case, an uneasy feeling. I won't send some of my best agents into danger without being there with them."

"Sir, you can't come with me on every case," Mulder said softly.

"You're right, Agent Mulder, but I'm coming on this one. End discussion."

Mulder closed his mouth and kept silent. He knew that once Walter Skinner had made up his mind, there was no changing it. Besides, the idea of Walter coming along appealed to him. There would be a week full of nights to endure, and if there was one thing that Mulder hated, it was being alone in a motel room. "Agent Scully and I welcome your assistance, sir," Mulder said, and he smiled at the older man.

* * * * * * * * *

Walter Skinner raced into the hospital and made his way to Mulder's room. He had been here so often, it felt like a second home. Although no one had dared to ask why he came everyday to see Agent Mulder, he knew they were discussing his almost fanatical attention to the stricken agent. Skinner didn't give a damn. Let them talk all they wanted to. Nothing would keep him from Mulder's bedside.

Skinner was greeted by the doctor as he entered the hospital room.

"There's been progress, Mr. Skinner. Agent Mulder has shown some slight movement. I believe slowly, but surely, muscle control is returning. I don't know how long complete recovery will take, but I'm more certain now than I was a couple of days ago that it will happen."

"What kind of movement?" Skinner wanted to know.

"He cried, and he squeezed my hand lightly when I asked him to. Although my prognosis is guarded, I have a feeling that Agent Mulder is a fighter. He's going to pull out of this. I have no doubt about that. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got rounds." The doctor left, closing the door behind him.

Skinner walked up to Mulder. Every time he came and looked at his lover, lying unconscious, pain overwhelmed him, but not today. Hope had welled up in him as the doctor spoke. Looking down on Fox, he thought about how peaceful he looked considering he was trapped in his own body.

"Fox, I'm here. The doctor just told me you squeezed his hand. That's good. Keep fighting." The older man then placed his hand over Mulder's.

Fox heard the voice of Walter Skinner cutting through the fog. Walter. The sound of his lover's voice brought him peace as well as hope. I was able to move my hand, and I opened my eyes. Mulder began to fight the fog. He willed it away, and slowly it began to dissipate.

"I've missed you, Fox. The apartment is lonely without you. I can't tell you how much I miss your burned food and your sloppiness. I don't sleep in our bed at night anymore. Without you, it's become a cold and foreign place to me. I'm envious of the doctor. Dumb. When he told me you squeezed his hand, I felt a pang of jealousy. It's just that I miss your touch . . ."

The fog was gone. Fox felt the warmth of Walter's hand on his. Willing his body to respond, he forced his hand to move.

"Fox! Your hand! I felt it move!" Skinner said, as he curled his fingers around it, careful not to disturb the IVs that were attached to Mulder's arm.

Damn you, do as I tell you, Fox yelled at his body. Concentrating with one purpose in mind, the younger man tightened his own fingers around Skinner's. When he felt his hand obeying, his mind shouted in triumph.

Walter stood stunned. He looked down at Mulder's hand. Did he imagine the younger man's hand squeezing his own? Then, as if Fox had read his thoughts, Walter saw and felt Mulder's hand move again. "You son-of-a-bitch! You're coming back!"

Open! Fox commanded his eyes. Slowly, his eyes opened, allowing the dim light of the room to penetrate. Everything was shifting in and out of focus. Disorientation engulfed him. But then, his eyes focused on the man at his side. Exhilaration flooded him as he saw Walter. His eyes closed, and the fog came raging back. NO! Not this time. Strength, mixed with steely resolve, reinforced these words. The advancing mist stopped, and then it was gone. His eyes opened again, and he heard himself say, "Walter."

Walter Skinner lifted his head with a start. Fox was staring at him. "Welcome back," the older man whispered.

Mulder managed a weak smile. Slowly he managed to speak, "Thanks . . . . . I was . . . . . scared. . . . . Missed you . . . . ." It took a lot of energy to talk. Each word was a struggle.

"It's okay, Fox. You're going to be fine," Skinner said, as he placed a kiss on Mulder's forehead. "Don't try to talk. Wait until you have more energy."

The younger man feebly nodded his head once. 

"Rest, Fox. You've been through hell and back. The doctor told me it would take some time for you to fully recover," Walter told the young man.

Mulder managed a smile. He once again squeezed Walter's hand. Then, he closed his eyes and went to sleep.

* * * * * * * * 

In the morning Mulder awoke. He looked around and saw Walter still asleep in a chair. He hadn't dreamed. Lifting his arm, he reached over and touched the older man's arm to make sure all this was real; thank God it was. "Walter," he called.

Walter sat up with a start. Rubbing his eyes, he turned and looked at Mulder. A big smile appeared on his face. Taking the younger man's hand, he brought it to his mouth and kissed it. "Good morning. Damn, it's good to hear you calling my name!"

"I'm thirsty," Fox said, licking his parched lips.

Walter poured water into a glass and helped Fox drink it.

Mulder drank the entire contents of the glass. "Anything to eat?" he asked. "I'm so hungry, I could eat a horse."

Skinner laughed. "Let me summon a nurse, and we'll see if the hospital has side of horse."

A nurse hurried in and began to examine Fox. "Agent Mulder, good to have you with us again," she smiled. "Let me page your doctor. He left instructions to be contacted as soon as you had regained consciousness."

"I'm hungry," Mulder said.

"I bet you are. Let me look at the doctor's orders and see if he mentions food." The nurse opened the folder and began to sift through pages. "Here it is! You'll be happy to know, you may eat. First, let me page the doctor, and then I'll call down for a tray." The nurse smiled and left the room.

"What in the hell happened to me? One minute I'm fine, and the next, I'm locked inside my own mind unable to do anything. All I remember is taking a drink of soda and thinking how bitter it tasted."

"You were infected with the virus."

Alarm showing on his face, Fox asked, "Scully?"

The older man ran the fingers of his right hand through Mulder's hair, "She's fine."

Puzzlement replaced alarm. "I don't understand. Why? . . . . . I remember, she spilled her soda. Someone put the virus in our drinks."

Skinner narrowed his eyes, "You scared someone, Fox. Whoever did this to you, meant to stop you. Scully has gone over the case with a fine tooth comb, but nothing. She told me that you actually did the bulk of the investigation, since she spent her time in the lab studying this virus. Now that you're back, as soon as you're able to, I want you to tell me everything you know. 

Mulder looked at the man, his eyes in deep thought, "I feel like I died." 

Walter felt a pain in his gut at the younger man's words. "I'm glad you didn't. If anything had happened to you . . . . ." his voice trailed off.

There was a long silence as both men's eyes locked. Mulder finally broke the mood by pulling Walter to him and giving him a kiss. As the older man's lips touched Mulder's, the pain of the last two weeks dissipated, leaving him feeling exhausted and bruised.

"We've got to stop him, Walter. The hell I've been through," Mulder said, choking back emotion. "Can't let it happen to anyone else."

Walter walked over to the window and looked through the blinds. He said nothing and seemed intent on staring at something. Regaining the cold and determined composure of the Assistant Director, he firmly said, "The bastard who did this to you will pay. Now that you're able to shed some light on what happened, I'll find him. There won't be any place on Earth he can hide from me. The pain he's put you through will seem like a picnic to what I've got in mind for him. There's no way in hell, I'm going to let him do to someone else what he did to you. No way!"

Fox managed to pull himself to a semi-sitting position. He could tell by the way the older man stood, that Assistant Director Skinner meant every word he said. "Walter, I almost pity the poor fool having to face you."

Two days later, Fox was back in Walter's and his apartment. As soon as the virus had been defeated by his body, Mulder's recovery was immediate. There were no physical signs of the virus left behind, just mental. He had been lucky. 

As they entered the apartment, the phone was ringing. Walter answered. Fox sat on the couch, thankful to be back. He heard the older man slam the receiver down and curse. Walter came and sat next to him. His fists were clinched.

"What was that about?"

"It's happened again. The virus . . ." the older man said, anger hanging on each world, 

Fox felt cold. Fear raced throughout his body. He fought within himself to submerge it, and finally did.

"Armored car robbery in Denver. The victims were the driver and the two guards. The driver died." Walter said.

When Mulder heard, he shivered. He remembered that he had almost given up himself as the virus ravaged him. Fox could still feel the profound sense of despair he himself had endured. How easy it would have been to give up and slip into a permanent sleep.

"We have to stop him," Mulder said, his own hands now tightly curled into fists.

* * * * * * * * *

As Fox stretched out in bed, he thought about how lucky he had been. He could've ended up like the poor bastard that the virus had killed. He closed his eyes, and for a second he found himself trapped inside the fog again. Startled, he sat up shaking. 

Walter entered from the bathroom. When he saw Mulder sitting up, pale and obviously distressed, he took Fox in his arms and held him. "Bad thoughts?"

"Yes. It just hit me, Walter. I could've ended up like the armored car driver . . . dead!"

Walter pulled him tighter, trapping Fox in his protective embrace. "You're alive and well. For you it's over, except the memories." 

Mulder sighed. With Walter's arms wrapped tightly around him, believing his lover was easy. "Walter, I, we, have got to stop this from happening again."

"I've already told you, it's my chief ambition. This scab on humanity will be found and stopped," Walter assured him.

Being pressed up against Walter's naked body for the first time in days, promptly caused Mulder to forget any thoughts of viruses. His mouth found one of Skinner's nipples and greedily began to suck on it. Mulder's hand slipped down towards Walter's crotch and was rewarded with a fully erect cock. As he took it into his hand, Walter began to arch his back and fell backwards onto the bed, taking Fox, still held tightly in his embrace, with him. 

Mulder pulled himself on top of Walter's body until his straining erection neared Skinner's. He let out a deep sigh, and cock touched cock. Mulder's hips began to grind into his lover's. "God! I've missed this!"

Cupping Mulder's ass cheeks in his large hands, Skinner whispered, "Want to make up for lost time?"

Fox laughed, and his mouth covered Walter's.

The next afternoon, they were in a plane heading for Fort Carson, Colorado. Scully had left earlier that day in hopes of finding something that they had somehow overlooked. Mulder looked out the small window of the plane at the passing clouds below them. He was filled with two emotions, fear and anger. As he allowed the two to rage in his mind, anger won.

Entering the weapons research lab, Mulder noticed Scully talking to a man. They seemed to engrossed in deep conversation.

"I wonder what they're so involved in?" he asked, knowing that Walter wouldn't know either.

"I want to know that myself," Walter replied.

As the two men approached, Scully moved towards them. "Good news," she said, displaying a faint smile. "Doctor Richards," she moved her arm indicating the man she had been talking with, "has developed a serum, that once injected, will nullify the effects of the virus."

"That's great news," Skinner said, as they approached the man. Offering his hand, Skinner introduced himself, "Assistant Director Skinner, and this is Special Agent Mulder. Tell me about the serum."

The man nodded his head. He was tall and thin with wispy blond hair. His eyes were the color of a bright autumn day. As Mulder studied him, something seemed familiar about him. Fox was sure that he had never met the man, or had he? Searching his memory, Mulder came up blank. The only thing he knew for certain was that he felt an instant dislike.

"There's not much to tell, Mr. Skinner." he spoke, devoid of any emotion. "It's a serum that may or may not work. I haven't tested it on a human test subject, because that would necessitate deliberately infecting the test subject first with the virus. That's a chance I just don't want to take."

"Pardon me for being dense, Mr. . ."

"Dr. Richards," the man supplied.

"Dr. Richards, is there anyway to ascertain if your serum works?" Skinner asked, matching the arrogant man's timbre.

"It works on the lab mice," the man said shrugging.

"That's very comforting to know, Doctor," Mulder grimaced, "but human beings are not rodents."

"Agent Mulder, please keep your sarcastic comments to yourself. It isn't my fault that you people haven't been able to find the person responsible for the theft of the virus. I believe that instead of questioning me about how this serum works, the public would be better served by the FBI doing its job," Doctor Richards spoke coldly.

"We are doing our job, Doctor," Walter said, matching the man's condescending tone and stare. "Please keep us posted on any progress you make with the serum."

"As you wish, Mr. Skinner. Now, if you will excuse me, I need to get back to my work."

"Certainly," Skinner replied as he turned and left, followed by Scully and Mulder.

In the hallway, Mulder stopped them. "I know this makes little sense, but somehow I know that guy. I can't clear the cobwebs from my mind, but he and I have met. This much I can tell you; I don't think it was a friendly meeting."

"Mulder your recent encounter with the virus may have affected your memory. You may be blaming him subconsciously for what happened to you," Scully offered.

"No and no," answered Mulder. "The only thing I'm certain of is that my gut instinct warned me about this guy. I believe that we should keep a discreet eye on the good doctor."

"Way ahead of you, Mulder. Dr. Richards is hiding something," Skinner replied. "I wish we could get a small sample of that serum and run some tests on it ourselves. Richards wasn't exactly forthcoming with any answers about it."

Scully smiled, "Sir, while I was speaking to Dr. Richards, he received a phone call that he took in his office. While he was gone, I managed to obtain a small sample of the vaccine." 

"Good thinking, Scully," Skinner returned her smile while looking at the small vial she held in her hand. "Let's get you to a lab."

"And, I'm going to work on finding out as much as I can about Doctor Richards, particularly why I think I've met him before," Mulder added.

The three strode out of the research lab and into the cold Colorado night.

* * * * * * * * * 

John Richards strode into his office, locked the door, and collapsed into his desk chair. Sweat hung like a heavy dew on his face. His breathing was shallow and raspy. That was close, too close. It was bad enough to have that know-it-all bitch question him. How tempted he had been to infect her with the virus. He let out a laugh of triumph as he pulled a vial from his lab coat pocket. The light from his desk lamp gave the amber liquid in the tube an iridescent sheen. It was amazing what one could do with food dye and water. One small drop of the color in ordinary tap water, and a serum to contradict the deadly virus had been created. It was so easy to fool them. 

Turning with a start, he looked over into a dark corner of his office, "Bravo!" a voice said.

 "I did the best I could. If you don't like the way I handle matters, do it yourself the next time," he replied, sneering.

"Must I do everything for you? You almost panicked when that bastard Mulder began to question you. If he had recognized you, do you think they would've left? Quit being such an asshole! All you have to do is listen to me. Wasn't it my idea about the serum? Well?"

Reluctantly, Richards shook his head.

"I'll take that as a yes. I don't think you need to worry about our friends from the FBI. They'll go somewhere else now, poking their damned noses into other things. To be on the safe side, I think we need to give them a diversion."

"What kind of a diversion?" Richards asked, afraid of the answer.

"Oh, let's see . . . Of course! We start a panic. I think an outbreak of the virus in an elementary school should provide for a big enough distraction."

John Richards could feel the blood draining from his face. "Children. Good God, they wouldn't have a chance! We can't!"

"You'll do as I say, or I'll take great pleasure in exposing you for the fraud you are. Pull yourself together. You sicken me with your humanitarian concern. Where was that feeling when you infected Agent Mulder?"

Richards turned his head away and closed his eyes. Mulder was the lucky one, at least he broke free from his nightmare. God, help me to escape.

* * * * * * * * *

Mulder sat in the car watching the exit from the weapons research lab. Skinner had taken Scully to find another lab in which to test the serum she had appropriated. Three hours had passed. He had watched the street lights come on. Looking at his watch, it showed 8:11. Mulder ransacked his mind for any clue that would tell him why he thought he knew Doctor Richards. Nothing came to him.

Finally, Mulder saw Richards coming out the front doors. He was walking slowly. Even from this distance, Fox could tell the doctor seemed agitated. The doctor's path would take him right in front of Mulder's car. Fox knew it would. He had deliberately parked close to the doctor's car.

As Richards drew nearer, Mulder's faced showed puzzlement. The man seemed to be talking to himself. That's weird. Fox watched as the doctor turned his head slightly from one side then to other, all the while seemingly talking to himself. Mulder slid down into the seat of his car as the other man approached.

"No! I don't want to do that", he head Richards say.

Then Fox froze. "You'll do as I say, you weak son-of-a-bitch," a female voice replied. There had been no one with Richards. Where had the other person come from? Mulder waited until he was sure that the doctor and the other person had passed before he raised himself up to look. There was no one with the doctor. Where had the other voice come from? Mulder looked around, but saw nothing. His gaze returned back to the doctor.

"You can't make me do it!" Richards shouted.

"I can, and I will!" the female voice yelled back. 

Mulder froze. What in the hell? Holy shit, the voice is coming from Richards. The man is talking to himself. Wait until Skinner and Scully hear about this . . .

* * * * * * * * * 

Dana Scully took the small vial that contained the serum, unsealed it, and placed a small drop of the amber liquid onto a slide. She then put it under the microscope and began to examine it. "That's odd."

"What's odd?" Skinner asked.

"I was expecting to see dead virus."

"I'm not following you, Agent Scully. What are you saying?" 

Scully continued to peer into the microscope, adjusting it ever so slightly. "Sir, I can't find any traces of the virus. I don't see how this serum could be of any use." She then poured the rest of the serum into a small tube, and took it over to a micron analyzer. "This will tell us the composition of the solution."

"I'm getting a bad feeling about this, Scully. I think Dr. Richards is trying to pull the wool over our eyes."

"I think you may be right, sir," Scully replied.

The machine hummed as it went about its business. In less than a minute, a buzz came from it, indicating it had completed its assigned task. 

Scully looked at the screen and bit her bottom lip. "That was fast." She then typed in a command, and the test results began to be printed. When the printer had stopped, Scully tore off the paper and read the results.

"Well?" Skinner asked.

"H2O, common food dye, chlorine . . . It's water."

"Water? I don't understand, Scully."

Scully handed Skinner the paper. Walter took it and looked over it. Anger replaced puzzlement. He wadded it up and tossed it into the wastebasket.

"Mulder was right," Scully said. "There's more to Dr. Richards than meets the eye."

Walter Skinner narrowed his eyes. The more he thought about Richards and the way he had lied to them, the more angry he became. "The bastard thinks he's put one over on us. We'll let him continue to believe that. I want to know why he faked the serum, and what connection he has to all of this."

"Sir," Scully began, "it stands to reason that Dr. Richards is most likely involved in the theft of the virus. That makes him a dangerous man. Since he's already used the virus twice, it's a safe bet that he'll use it again. We don't want to scare him until we know what his goal was in all of this."

"I've already thought of that, Scully. . ." Skinner's cell phone beeped, stopping him.

"Hello. . . It's Mulder. . .What are you talking about? . . . That explains a lot. . . Mulder, the serum is a fake. Nothing but water and food dye. . . I'll send over a couple of agents to keep an eye on him. Meet us back at the motel as soon as you're relieved.. . Good idea. I'll get Scully on it. . . Oh Fox, be careful. . ."

"Something interesting?" Scully asked, folding her arms across her chest.

"I should say so," Skinner replied, putting the phone back in his pocket. "It seems that Dr. Richards has a problem."

"A problem?"

"Yes. It appears that he is also a she."

Confusion washed over Scully's face. "I'm not sure I understand."

Skinner continued, "Mulder says that Dr. Richards suffers from multiple personality disorder. Richards is also a she."

Scully let that sink in for a minute. "That could explain a lot of things."

Mulder put his cell phone down. He looked over at the house the doctor had gone into. Everything was quiet. Then, the front door opened. Mulder could feel himself tensing. Out into the glow of the porch light stepped a figure. Fox squinted. It was a woman. As she turned and headed down the driveway, Mulder could make out the black and white uniform of a maid underneath her open coat. He exhaled, trying to relax. For some reason, he remained tense. The woman crossed the street in front of him and disappeared around a corner. 

Returning his gaze to the house Richards had entered, Mulder felt uneasy. It was a modest little cottage. Maybe two bedrooms at the most. He looked over at Richards' car; it was a late model compact. Why would a man, who obviously lived frugally, have a maid? Mulder's mind quickly digested these facts. "Shit!" he said as he opened his car door.

"Going somewhere Agent Mulder?" the woman asked.

Mulder froze for an instant as he looked at the maid. The woman held an aerosol can up to his face. "Pleasant dreams," she said as she released a fine mist towards him. Mulder coughed and then slumped forward.

"Can't have you following me," the woman said grinning. "Will you never learn? You may have survived the first time, but your luck just and out," she said. Pulling Mulder up, she brushed his hair with her hand. Bending down, she kissed his warm, unresponsive lips, and whispered in his ear, "Shiva."

"Mulder! Mulder!"

Mulder moaned. He opened his eyes wide . For a minute, he was confused. The last thing he remembered was the woman, a hiss of spray, and then, nothing.

"What happened?" Scully asked him, as she examined his eyes and felt for his pulse.

"I'm not really sure," he said searching his memory.

"Are you positive you're okay?" the concerned voice of Walter Skinner asked.

Mulder shook his head. He opened the car door and got out. As he stood, his legs felt weak. Skinner put an arm around him to steady him. Fox leaned up against him for support.

"Damn! The maid was Richards. I should've known," he berated himself.

"Tell us what happened," Skinner asked, tightening his hold on the younger man.

After Mulder had finished, Scully interjected, "Some type of nerve repressant, I would guess. Sort of like surgical anesthesia. If it makes you feel any better, I don't think it will have any lasting effects."

"I'm happy to know that," Mulder said, managing a weak grin.

"She could've killed you. Why didn't she?" Skinner asked.

"I, for one, am glad she refrained," Mulder added.

"Me too," Skinner said, "but why?"

As Mulder started to answer him, the house in front of them burst into a bright, orange fireball. The force of the explosion knocked all three agents onto the ground. Burning debris began to rain down around them.

"What in the hell!" yelled Skinner.

The heat coming from the inferno scorched their faces. Mulder looked away, attempting to shield his eyes.

"Everyone all right?" Walter shouted.

"I believe so, sir," Scully replied, shock in her voice. "That certainly was unexpected."

Skinner got to his feet. Pulling out his cell phone, he called for assistance. "Send a special team to Dr. Richards' house . . . Bring along a dog . ..Explosion, looks like total destruction . . . No, I don't know if the doctor was inside, that's why I want the dog . . ."

Mulder turned his gaze to the burning rubble before him. Watching the flames leaping up into the air, he knew that no body would be found, or if one was, it wouldn't be Richards. Richards, or rather his female personality, was clever. She had allowed him to live for a reason. This was turning into a cat and mouse game. Mulder swallowed hard. He had a strange feeling that he was the mouse.

"He's not inside," Mulder said matter of factly.

Skinner looked down at him, "I think you're right." Gazing at the destruction before them, he added, "Anything that would have been of any help to us, is gone. Our best bet is to search his office back in the weapons lab. It has been my experience, that the smarter someone thinks he is, the more mistakes he makes."

Lifting himself up and offering Scully a hand, Mulder added, "Especially when the male Richards isn't gung ho about being forced to play along."

* * * * * * * ** * 

The smell of waxy crayons and old books brought back memories of elementary school. That time in his life had been filled with happy memories. Richards remembered how he had looked forward to school everyday. He entered a classroom, allowing the beam from his flashlight to penetrate the gloom. The pale ray of light illuminated papers with golden stars hanging on the walls, and art work adorning the bulletin board. He walked up to a chalkboard and felt in the tray for a piece of chalk. Finding one, he picked it up and began to scribble.

"What do you think you're doing? We're not here to play school, you idiot! You know what to do," the cold voice of his alter ego cut through him like a newly sharpened knife.

He dropped the chalk on the floor and heard it shatter. John screwed his face into a knot of deep concentration. If he was lucky, he would be able to block the other for a short amount of time. During those brief minutes of freedom from her, he could think without her knowing. Placing his hand in his coat pocket, John felt the canister containing the virus. She wanted him to contaminate the food in the cafeteria with it. He shuddered as he remembered how she had laughed when he told her that these were innocent children she planned to infect. "You're right." she had said. "Imagine the panic we'll start." Tears began to run down his face. How had he gotten to this point in his life? A monster who planned on hurting little children. Why did he allow Vengeance to live?

John Richards drifted back in time. . . He was working late as usual. Before him, in a beaker, was the paralysis virus he had worked on for over three years. Army intelligence had commissioned him to develop a drug that would neutralize the enemy. However, he had also been covertly working on a drug that would strip soldiers of their inhibitions. "Feelings get into the way of killing during war. A soldier with a conscience becomes a liability," he remembered telling himself. So, like a naive fool, he set about developing a drug that would do just that. It became his obsession to develop what he later labeled Aggression Factor Formula. While everyone thought he was working on the paralysis formula, he instead worked feverishly on perfecting his aggression enhancer.

Testing had not gone well. The first batch of volunteers, non-violent prisoners in the state penitentiary, had all died due to brain hemorrhages. John continued to work to perfect his drug, all the while passing it off as the paralysis virus. The fifth test produced the results he had hoped for. Men and women, injected with Aggression Factor 5, had no problem becoming ruthless killers. Without remorse for their victims, they efficiently eliminated each one. The only drawback seemed to be that it caused permanent dementia. You couldn't have trained soldiers turning into psychotic killers.

John sighed. The army had told him to halt his experiments. He couldn't do that. He had risked too much on the drug's development. Besides, he was determined to make it work. Without anyone suspecting, he had continued. Finally, it was finished. All he had done was to add DNA from human stem cells. As the drug destroyed the reasoning center of the brain, the DNA, now part of the drug's matrix, should theoretically turn on the brain's healing process. To see if it worked as he had hoped, it needed testing. Since he didn't have access to any test subjects, there was only one thing to do. Taking a syringe, he filled it half full with the liquid from the beaker. Not waiting, for fear he would relent, he injected himself. The searing pain raced throughout his body, causing him to collapse onto the floor. His eyes closed and everything seemed to stop.

When he awoke, it felt like he had been torn in two. Part of him felt alien. Slowly, he managed to pull himself up. The pain inside his head caused him to cringe in agony. "What have I done?" he had asked himself, clutching his skull. Fighting back the foul tasting bile that rose into his mouth, he sat in a chair. 

"The first right thing in years," a woman's voice answered.

Startled, John had turned around. No one was in the lab with him. He shook his head. The pressure was getting to him.

"Finally, I'm free! Not a minute to soon for you, my little scared rabbit."

"Who's there? Show yourself now!" John yelled.

The sound of laughter answered him. He stumbled around the room, but found no one. "It's the drug," he had assured himself.

"You bet it's the drug. Thank God, you finally did something right."

John retreated to the safety of his office and locked the door. He walked up to the mirror that hung on the wall, and looked at his reflection. His face was pale, glistening with a patina of sweat. He looked into his haunted eyes. To his horror, they weren't his anymore. At that instant, John Richards felt himself being sucked inside, locked like a prisoner in his own mind. Something touched him. It felt cold and foul. 

Peering out through eyes that were once his, he looked at the reflection again. Even though it looked like him, it wasn't. His body no longer obeyed him.

"You might as well relax, John. I'm in control right now. . . No, you're not losing your mind. In a way, you've gained a mind, mine. Let me introduce myself, I am Shiva."

John had always wondered what insanity would feel like, now he knew. The drug had caused him to slide over the edge. It had thrown him into a quagmire of psychosis.

"Hell, John! You're not a fucking loon. All you've done is to release that part of you that's been submerged for years. Remember your Freud? I'm your alter-ego," the woman had giggled. "I hope you're ready, because I intend to make sure that we get everything we're entitled to. I'm sick to death of your sniveling ways."

He shrank away and tried to hide. Shiva, as she called herself, seemed to sense his fear.

"You make me sick, you asshole. I'm going to turn you into a fucking man. When I'm through, you'll thank me."

Maniacal laughter surrounded him. Then, he was in control again. He looked at himself in the mirror. Dear God, what has happened? he had thought.

John shook his head. The memory of that first encounter with Shiva still made him shake. "If only .. ." he stopped, chiding himself. He knew what he would do. The times that she had been foolish enough to leave him in peace, he had put to good use. The time would come, where he would catch her totally off guard. He swallowed the lump in his throat, "Let me have the courage needed," he softly prayed.

He hurriedly exited the school building before she could rouse herself. When she asked him, he would say that he had done as she had ordered him to. Hopefully, she wouldn't be able see through his lie. John had worked for weeks on trying to keep her from accessing his thoughts at will. Much to his own surprise, he discovered that there were limits to her abilities. He could deny her access. Shiva had never suspected that he had replaced the deadly nerve toxin with a harmless surgical sedative. She thought she had killed FBI Agent Mulder when she had sprayed him with it. If he really concentrated, John could stop her from sharing his thoughts. But, his stomach convulsed, if she ever suspected him of doing so, what would she do to him? It really didn't matter now anyway. He had challenged her, and he knew she'd find out. Did it matter? Not really, he couldn't allow her to kill at will. His drug had produced the best soldier possible. Shiva was a killing machine with no soul. "God, help me!" he pleaded, as he got in his car and drove away.

* * * * * * * * *

"Are you sure you're okay?" Skinner asked Mulder, a look of concern on his face.

"Yeah, I'm fine. To be quite honest, Walter, I'd much rather know why she didn't kill me," Mulder offered, as he stretched out on the bed in their motel room.

Walter looked at the younger man lounging on the bed. He was wearing an old robe that gaped open revealing his firm chest. Walter's eyes drifted down toward the bulge between Mulder's legs. As his lover shifted his weight, the robe parted, revealing Mulder's cock. Drinking in the sight, Skinner's penis began to strain.

"Walter, did you hear me?"

The older man shook himself and replied, "Of course I hear you." It was difficult to concentrate when he wanted to fuck Mulder.

Mulder noticed the leer on Walter's face. Spreading his legs, Mulder placed his hand on his stiffening shaft and replied, "What say we work on those answers tomorrow? Right now, judging by that look on your face, I'd say we have other, more urgent business to take care of." He then reached over and turned off the lamp.

Walter wasted little time in shedding his clothing and crawling into bed with Fox. As he took Mulder into his arms, his cell phone began to beep. "Shit! What timing," he cursed.

Fox flicked on the light. Walter picked up his phone and answered, "Skinner here." The older man's face took on a stern look. He leapt out of bed and stood as if poised for action. The sight of Walter standing naked was impressive. To Mulder, it brought back memories of statues of ancient gods he had seen in museums. Something about the way Walter stood, reminded him of the god of war, Ares.

"What do you mean 'tried to kill'?" Skinner asked emotionlessly. "Wait! Give me that address again. . . . . Yes, I got it. . . . . If this turns out to be some kind of a trick, I'll . . . . . Hello! Are you still there?" Walter put the phone down and turned to face Mulder.

"Judging from the look on your face, I'd say bad news," Fox offered.

"That was Richards. He wants to meet with us tomorrow night."

"Did he say why?"

"No. Although he did say that he had to hurry because she was coming."

"She?" Fox asked with a puzzled look on his face.

"Yes. Shiva, he called her. Then he hung up," Walter said as he crawled back into bed with Mulder.

"It must be the other personality. Sounds like Richards is trying to avoid her. That's kind of hard considering she's him, and he's her. Tomorrow night might just be very interesting. Of course, it could be a trap."

"I'm aware of that. We will be prepared. . . Now, where were we? Oh yes," Walter said, as his mouth came down onto Mulder's waiting lips.

* * * * * * * * *

Shiva paced in front of the television. At any minute she expected a news flash announcing the tragedy that had occurred at Washington Elementary School. She was almost beside herself with excitement. The thought of the terror she would unleash gave her a heady sense of power. Time passed slowly. "Where in the hell is that announcement?" As the clock approached three p.m., she became more agitated. Something had gone wrong. By now, the news should be all over the television. Cold anger settled over her. He had failed. By God, she would make him sorry!

John Richards felt her anger and cringed. The hatred Shiva had for him began to wash over him, burning him like acid. It felt like he was being wrapped in a heavy blanket. The more he tried to fight it, the more it encapsulated him. Struggling to save himself from her, he ran into the deep recesses of his mind. Behind him, screeching like a fury, he heard her chasing after him. Something deep inside his soul shook. Realization spread through him. He stopped running and turned to face the approaching storm. A strange calm filled him. Peace.

As he looked at the face of chaos approaching, he saw it for what it truly was, himself. That knowledge gave him power, and with power would come control.

"You damn piece of shit!" she roared as she stood before him. "Why didn't you do as I commanded?"

John said nothing.

"Answer me, you bastard!"

He remained still. A strange look of peace came from his face. Shiva took a step backward. She had never seen him like this. Here in the presence of her full anger, he showed no emotion. Hatred leapt from her and lashed out at him, knocking him down. Still, he was serene, smiling. Slowly, he raised himself to a standing position and fixed his gaze on her. He had never done that before. Fear touched her for the first time in her existence. She tried to move, but couldn't. His gaze held her. Like twin suns, his eyes bored into her, causing her to scream out in agony.

"It is enough!" he shouted.

As the words touched her, they caused her anguish. She wailed in pain. Holding up her hands, she tried to shield herself from him, but failed.

"Your time is almost at hand," he calmly spoke. "Soon, you and I will end this. But first, we have to set things right. Now be gone."

At his last words, an invisible hand grasped her. She struggled against it, but to no avail. Shiva glared in defiance at him for one last moment before he faded from her sight.

John shook himself. He had fought her and won. However, he knew that it was only the battle and not the war. There could be only one way to vanquish his foe. A deep sense of peace came to him. He no longer feared the solution that would free him from her. In fact, he welcomed it. Peace would soon be his.

The black car came to a stop in front of the warehouse. Rain was coming down in sheets outside. The three agents peered out the windows in anticipation. A lone street light stood like a sentry in the wet darkness.

"Why is it that whenever the suspect wants a meeting, they invariably choose an abandoned warehouse?" Mulder asked.

"Too much television," Scully replied, "All those ominous shows don't leave much to the imagination. I watched one last Sunday night. It was about FBI agents . . ."

"Sorry to interrupt your important discussion, but I'd like for us to go over our plan," Skinner said, turning the discussion to their impending meeting with John Richards. "Remember, it's not Richards who's the threat, so don't scare him. He's the only one who can lead us to the missing virus."

"Understood," replied Mulder, "but what if it isn't Richards?"

"Then we deal with it accordingly. It's important that whoever is waiting for us be taken alive. The virus must be recovered, and we'll use any means available to us to do just that. Any other questions?"

"No," Mulder said.

Scully shook her head.

"One last thing, use extreme caution. We're dealing with a sick mind. Anything is possible.. Is that clear?" Skinner asked, his voice sounding firm.

Both agents nodded.

Skinner looked at his watch. "It's time," he said, opening his door.

The three agents stood in the pouring rain. With a signal from his hand, they drew their guns and moved quietly towards the dark building. Mulder's heart started to pound. Scully clinched her free hand into a tight ball. Skinner gritted his teeth. 

When they reached the door, Skinner pulled out a flashlight. He looked first at Mulder and then at Scully. He could see concentration etched on their faces. Putting his free hand on the door, he pulled it open slowly. As the door swung open, the stale odor of wet cardboard wafted out. Tensing, Skinner stepped inside followed by the other two, who quickly took up positions on either side of him. The only sounds that could be heard were the rain hitting the metal roof and the dripping of water.

Skinner didn't want to use the flashlight. Once it was on, he became the proverbial sitting duck. I can't see a damned thing. Just as his finger was about to depress the on switch of the flashlight, his eyes focused in on a narrow beam of light in the distance. 

"Sir," whispered Scully, "over there."

"I see it," he replied.

Skinner clicked the flashlight on. Its beam cut through the darkness, revealing little. If this were an ambush, then they'd soon find out. In the distance, a light came on and then another. The outline of a person, sitting on a box, materialized. 

"The game's afoot," Skinner said, as he started towards the figure.

The sounds of their shoes on the wet concrete floor echoed throughout the empty building. When they got within a few feet of the figure, Doctor Richards raised a gun and pointed it at them.

Skinner stopped, while Scully and Mulder stayed in the shadows with their guns aimed at the doctor. 

"We have to hurry," John Richards said, "I don't know how much longer I can keep her trapped."

"The gun," Skinner said.

Richards looked at the gun in his hand. "Sorry." He laid it down on a crate. Skinner took his own gun and replaced it in its holster. Mulder and Scully followed suit. 

Stepping out of the shadows, the two agents appeared on either side of Skinner.

"Now, why did you ask us here?" Skinner's strong voice asked.

Richards slumped down on a crate. His face took on a strained look. A flash from a lightning bolt momentarily illuminated the dilapidated structure. The doctor jumped nervously. John Richards obviously was afraid, terrified.

"She's gone too far," he sighed. "At first, I was intoxicated with her strength. She offered me the one thing in my life that I had always wanted--power. My entire life has been spent under the thumb of others. I've been a good little dog."

Richards raised his head and looked at them. His eyes narrowed, and he bit his lower lip. Mulder could sense the pressure the man was under, could see the pain that encased him.

"Shiva knew exactly what to say to get me to do her bidding," Richards continued.

"Shiva? Isn't that the name of the Hindu goddess with two faces?" Mulder asked.

A deep, ironic laugh came from the seated man. "You're right Agent Mulder. Two faces, one good and one evil." Richards eyes locked with Mulder's. He stopped laughing. His face went blank. "This Shiva, who torments me, doesn't have a good face. She only has two evil faces."

"Dr. Richards," Scully's voice interrupted. "How did Shiva come to be?"

John Richards' voice took on an air of regret as he told them of Shiva's birth. Looking at Mulder apologetically, he offered, "She forced me to infect you. At that time I was powerless to refuse her. She had me convinced you were intent on killing her and me. I'm sorry."

Mulder tensed for a moment. Then the black curtain that had shrouded the memories of his ordeal, parted. Fox remembered. He remembered Richards standing over his soda. Mulder remembered the momentary wild look in his eyes as Richards handed him his drink. 

"If it makes you feel any better, Agent Mulder, she had instructed me to kill you. I couldn't."

"Thanks," Mulder replied flatly.

"She also tried to kill you when you were parked outside my house, but I managed to stop her. I had switched canisters on her."

"Dr. Richards," Skinner jumped in, "why are we here?"

With a smile on his face, Richards answered, "To stop her."

Richards reached into his pocket and pulled out a small case. He held it out towards Skinner. "The virus."

Skinner took the case and handed it to Scully. 

She opened it carefully and looked inside. "Three vials, sir."

"Is that all of it?" Skinner asked.

"Yes," Richards replied. "As you know, four vials were reported as missing. One was used to infect Agent Mulder and the guards of the armored car. Shiva wanted me to use two more to infect the food of a local elementary school."

"Oh my God!" Scully exhaled.

Richards raised his hand, "Don't worry. I couldn't do it. I'm not a murderer of innocent children." He began to shake, "When Shiva found out, she came at me, bent on totally destroying me. Somehow, I managed to find the strength necessary to stop her. She's struggling to get out. That's why I'm here also, so you can stop her permanently. Please, stop her!" he shouted as he began to sob.

"That's exactly what we plan on doing," Skinner replied.

John Richards stopped crying. His eyes were opened in fear. Spitting out the words, he began, "My God, she's . . ."

Shiva burst out of the bonds that held her, screaming with rage. Like a wounded animal, she snarled and snapped. Reason had left her. Only instinct drove her onward. He had bested her! How she would make him suffer for that. 

"What are you talking about, Dr. Richards?" Scully asked.

"His eyes!" shouted Mulder, "They're different."

Richards face contorted into animalistic rage. Hatred looked out at them. A scream exploded from his mouth, "You fucking bastards! You'll pay for what you've done. No one screws around with Shiva! No one!"

"The gun!" Mulder yelled as Shiva reached for the gun.

"Take cover!" Skinner ordered.

Mulder's heart was pounding so hard, he knew it would burst out of his chest. Without thinking, he had his gun in hand. Squeezing the trigger, he shot out one of the lights. Skinner followed suit. They were cast into blackness.

Shiva began to laugh, then stopped abruptly, "Think I'm afraid of the dark? Think again, I am the dark. I am Shiva! I am death!" 

Gun shots rang out. 

Skinner felt the searing pain of tearing flesh as a bullet bored through his right shoulder. The pain tore a groan from his mouth. He could feel the warm wetness of blood spreading out from the wound. He flung himself down onto the floor. 

Crouching, Scully fired her gun into the darkness. 

Mulder concentrated. He listened for any sound that would allow him to zero in on Richards. 

John Richards had been surprised by Shiva's attack. She had caught him unprepared. He had felt her anger grab him and wrest control away from him. Surprisingly, he felt no fear. As a matter of fact, he felt nothing. There was only one thing to do, and he would do it. Shiva must not be allowed to win. Picking himself up, he threw himself at her.

"It's over, Shiva," Richards voice could be heard coming out of the darkness.

"Like hell it is," shouted Shiva.

The force of her will knocked Richards down. He was momentarily stunned . Within his being, a white rage rose up and began to stream outward. The power of his anger pulled him to his feet. Facing Shiva, he began to bombard her with wave after wave of pulsating power. 

Shiva shrieked as the intensity of his will grabbed her and held her prisoner. 

Richards walked up to her and held out his arms. It is over, he said in a voice filled with strength and compassion. 

Shiva struggled to get away from him, eyes ablaze with hate. 

He began to glow. You and I are one, he said, as he took her into his arms. We were never meant for this. Deep sobs began to come from Shiva. 

Listen! Do you hear it? he asked. They're calling us home. 

Shiva raised her head. Voices, like tingling wind chimes, began to dance around her. She stopped crying and raised her eyes to meet his. Understanding flooded her, and she ceased struggling. The light coming from him increased until it engulfed them both. In one blinding moment, the two were one.

Mulder strained to pick up any noise. His gun ready. 

Skinner bit his lips to keep from groaning. The pain in his shoulder intensified with each second that passed.

"We're sorry," the voice of Richards cut through the blackness, followed by a gun shot.

Mulder jumped at the sound of the shot. Holding his gun in front of him, he took aim, ready to return fire. Just as his finger started to pull the trigger, he heard a body hit with a thud, and then silence. After what seemed like several lifetimes, he shouted, "Richards! Shiva!" No reply came.

A beam of light materialized next to Mulder and began to cut through the darkness. The shaft of light came to a stop when it revealed the form of Richards slumped over a crate.

"He's down," the strained voice of Skinner spoke.

Mulder got up and began to make his way towards Richards. He heard Scully off to his side, approaching him. With gun pointed, Mulder stepped up to the body. Reaching down with his free hand, he shook Richards. There was no reaction.

"I've got him covered," Scully said, as she stepped up beside him. "Roll him over."

Mulder rolled the body over. It slid off the crate and landed on its back. As it did, Fox took a step back. Blood was oozing out of Richard's left eye socket. What was left of his eyeball hung from the socket like an autumn leaf, hanging from its withered stem. He gagged involuntarily at the sight.

Skinner walked up to Mulder, "Which one of you shot him?"

Neither agent said a word.

Mulder finally broke the silence, "Scully, was it you?"

"No," came Scully's reply.

"It wasn't me," said Skinner. "I took a bullet in the shoulder."

Mulder turned with alarm, "Walter. . ."

"I'm fine," Skinner interrupted him. "It takes more than a bullet in my shoulder to do me in. Although, to be honest, it hurts like hell."

"Let me have a look at your shoulder," Scully said, as she walked up to him and directed the flashlight beam at the site.

Mulder began carefully removing Skinner's coat, exposing the dark stain underneath it. 

Minutes later, after Scully had examined him, she pronounced him okay, "It's a clean wound. The bullet went through the shoulder. I don't think it did much damage. The bleeding's stopped. A thorough cleansing, some stitches, and . . ."

"Enough," groaned Skinner. "Apparently, Richards shot himself."

Mulder looked at the body of Richards. For some reason, he felt no remorse. Maybe it was the smile on John Richards' face, that made him feel this way. The struggle that had always been etched on it, now was gone. The only reminder of his desperate struggle was the damaged eye. "Richards won."

"What?" asked Skinner.

"I said Richards won the battle. Look at the smile on his face. He died in peace," Mulder continued.

"I'm not sure I'd consider dying victory," Skinner offered.

"It was for him," Fox offered. Then looking at the older man, he added, "Sometimes, a person has to listen to what the whispers in his own mind are trying to tell him. It's when we fight those whispers that our own Shiva's are created."

"Philosophy aside, Mulder, I'm gong to call the police," Scully interrupted him. She pulled out her phone and attempted to make the call. "Too much interference, I'll try it outside."

Mulder picked up Richards' flashlight and tossed it to her, "Here, wouldn't want you to fall down and break your neck."

Scully caught it, smiled, and began to walk away.

As Mulder watched her exit, he turned towards Walter. "You know, I've had whisperings in my mind for a long time."

"Oh . . . ?" Skinner asked warily.

"Yeah. You know what they've been telling me?"

Skinner shook his head.

"That I'm a lucky bastard," Mulder continued. "Unlike Richards, I'm not alone. I have you."

"You don't have to . . ." Skinner started to say, but was cut off.

"Yes, I do have to. Walter, you're the best thing in my life. Without you, I'm no better than Richards. Thank you."

Skinner was silent. He let Mulder's words wash over him. Since he and Mulder had found each other, life had been less dark. Meaning had returned to him. But more importantly, hope and love had been reborn. A passage from a poem he had once memorized came to mind, and he recited it into the darkness that surrounded them:

        I have you fast in my fortress  
                And will not let you depart,  
        But put you down into the dungeon  
                In the round-tower of my heart.

Mulder reached out and found Skinner's hand. As their fingers intertwined, each stood strong and silent, fed by the other's strength. 

THE End


End file.
